Censure
by Mr Thin
Summary: A Marble Hornets Fanfic. Jay's lack of willingness to play the game gets him into hot water. Not so much slash and mind games: Jay, 'Masky', 'totheark' -- assuming that the three are separate people. Violence. Adult themes.
1. Summons

For a fraction of a second when the door was flung open, he saw his own death looking him in the face. Harsh breathing muffled behind cheap plastic and the figure scrambled back against the corner of the closet, arms plastered against the walls and blanket half-shrugged to the side.

Eyes adjusted and the black shadow came into focus.

Not Him.

"Get up," the person blocking the closet entrance said, jacking his thumb over his shoulder. "We have work to do."

The figure groped half-blindly for the water nestled between cushion and closet wall, feeling shaky after the adrenaline rush. Hard to feel anything. He pushed his mask up just above his mouth and sloppily guzzled half the bottle's contents as the person moved out of the way of the closet. Better. Better for now. Not used to being up during the day like this.

He heard an angry cuss from down the short hall accompanied by a metallic racket, popped his head out of the closet and then ducked it back in, out of the way of the screen door which was being clumsily thrown his way.

"You... you don't go out." He got to his feet. Leaned heavily against the door frame. Dark eyes watched suspiciously from between black-painted circles as the person stomped back into view. A nearly identical mask was just being slipped into place over his face.

The two regarded one another, the first coming within a couple of feet of the other as the other leaned back a little against the closet doorframe. "You think I don't know that? _You're_ the one who's supposed to deal with this... this!" He was fishing in his rumpled coat pocket. Out came something hard, slamming against the other's chest.

The other reached up automatically to take what was given him, restraining a seizing sensation in his chest from bubbling up and out his mouth. He quivered for a second.

"Read that!" the first exclaimed, body tense.

He looked down at the object in his hands, the cheap pay n go cell phone that he'd picked up for the first a couple of weeks back from the convenience store a few blocks into town. He read the text message displayed there, and slumped a little. The cell phone's screen flickered for a moment, but the first grabbed it back and slapped it shut, tucking it back into his coat pocket before the other could mention the faint distortion.

"It's not working," the first growled, turning and stalking through the detritus littered across the floor.

"Hey, I'm only doing what you told me to."

"Yeah, and it's not working." The first paced back and stopped in front of the closet, and the other who had shoved off of it, and the next time he spoke, his voice was much quieter. Calmer, more soothing, almost. "Okay, you did your best. I'm not saying anything about that. It's just that what we're doing isn't getting through his skull."

"In one ear and out the other," the other rasped, though the wry quirk of a smile the mask wore didn't convey much of the dark humor therein.

"Yeah. Well. Let's leave him with something he's _not_ going to forget. Let's go."

"Wait," the other stepped out of the closet, zipping up his jacket. It was cold in here. "You got everything?"

"Yes. Let's _go_. It'll be dark soon."

"Right behind you."

"That's what _Seth_ said."

The other snorted, clearing his throat to cover up the noise, and took a deep breath. He had no idea what the first planned on doing, but he was glad that they were both on the same side for it.


	2. Accord

"That's definitely him."

Two blurred masks peered in through the window, two white half-moons with raised black brows obscured by lanky hair.

"He didn't get to him yet." The first seemed darkly pleased.

"I'd have said something if I saw Him."

"Let's do this, then." The first pushed back from the window. "That's another camera. He's still recording... that's a start."

"Hey," the other pushed back from the window as well, looking the first straight in his mask-obscured eyes. "What are you planning on doing, exactly?"

The first was already looking away, rummaging in a threadbare backpack. He pushed another hard object on the other, this time a camcorder. "You just hold this. Help me if I need it."

"You're not gonna do anything... too drastic?" He checked the tape. It looked new. One of the last that he'd picked up for the first, then. Precious commodity... what _was_ he planning?

"Follow me."


	3. Conflict

The key still fit, miraculously. They'd been getting ready to bust down the door, but the stupid son of a bitch hadn't even changed his locks.

The two slipped inside, closing the door behind them. They'd _both_ gotten very good at being very quiet when they wanted to be. He felt like he needed to cough, a nervous tickle in the back of his throat. He held it back. This always happened when he was feeling especially anxious...

"This place is a mess," the other murmured, to forestall a nervous coughing fit. True enough, it looked like the occupant hadn't cleaned for some time.

The first didn't respond. Turned, instead, and glared at the other. Both froze as they heard a discordant twang, and turned as one to look towards the hall. A second, less discordant noise wobbled out to them. A flush of noise that sounded angry. Guitar music?

The first peered around the corner, looking down the hall, as the other cast a watchful eye around the living room. He couldn't spot anything worth making note of... there were a lot of old tapes scattered nearby the television, sorted into sloppy piles. Sheafs of paper slumped to the floor, scrawled with notes. Plastic and paper containers with remnants of food dried on were piled high against one corner. Looked a lot like the first's room, actually...

Speaking of which, he noticed that the first was already advancing down the hall. The other followed suit, checking to make sure that the tape was rolling. He didn't need to be yelled at, knew that the first was counting on him.

It was dark in the hall, but he could make out the first's figure. Watched him pressing an ear to the closed door. More music, this time tentative, precarious. Like the player was picking at something long forgotten and just barely recalled.

The other watched the first slump against the door just faintly, nodded to himself. He even smiled behind the mask. This, by comparison with their own private hell, was an oasis of normalcy. On the one hand, the noise of the guitar put him on edge... making unnecessary noises marked one a dead giveaway for Him, should He be anywhere near. But the melody that was beginning to take shape behind the closed door was fucking naive... and he missed that. Missed being that.

He jumped, startled, as a loud crash sounded nearby. The bedroom door _did_ have a lock in place. He'd gotten distracted, didn't realize that the first had pulled back from the door and had _slammed_ it.

Shouting inside! The other jumped back, camcorder held up to the door as the first slammed into it again, and both the lens and the masked figure watched as the first barreled through into the room.

More shouting! The other hurried into the doorway, trying to focus on the action as it happened. _"Close the door!"_ the first shouted, not taking his attention off of the angry and frightened victim that was trying to regain his footing. The other quickly complied, looking away for a second, swinging the door shut. Turning the camcorder back on the two again, he watched as the first scrapped with the familiar face. He didn't leave his spot. He wouldn't unless the first told him too... after all, following orders was what had kept him alive up until this point.

Licking his lips, breathing the close, acrid air that collected under the mask, the other watched as the first tumbled the two of them back across the owner's bed, as he pinned him there, despite struggles to the contrary. The other could see the fear on his face even from across the room... felt a surge of adrenaline again. The computer nearby was shuddering red, green, blue waves, unhappy at the tension in the air.

_"Stay still, damnit."_ The first gave the owner a particularly hard shove. "No!" He grabbed the other man's hand as it came up, tried to yank his mask off. His quarry went still. Tense, but still. _"Stay."_

The other relaxed faintly, eyes flicking to the computer screen, which had stopped juddering quite so harshly.

"What the fuck do you want with me?!" the owner finally asked, voice breaking part way through his angry demand. "You're that fucking To the ark person, aren't you? Get off of me!"

"No!" The first gave the man a peremptory shove down into the tangled sheets and hard mattress, twisting his arm, watching the man grimace. "You listen to _me_," the first demanded. "You _listen_ to me. _You_, listen." The words were muffled, but the intensity of the threat lingering just beneath them was enough to have the man baring his teeth. "You hear me?"

The man watched, eyes huge with fright.

The first took his hand off of the man's wrist, cuffing him. "Do you _hear _me?"

"Ow -- yes!" The man struggled again, found a moment of leverage and nearly bucked the first off.

The other held his camcorder tentatively, expecting to be summoned at any moment. He hadn't made so much as a peep, though something nagging deep in the back of his mind worried that this was very wrong. He didn't like straying from the tried and true methods of safekeeping...

It seemed that the first didn't need his help, after all, for he still managed to pin the man back to the mattress. He had the man pressed against the corner where bed met wall, now. The man wasn't going to budge.

The first tilted his head and regarded the man for a moment, once the struggling had stopped again. He raised an arm carefully, watching for any further signs of dissent, and when the man didn't immediately move, he reached a hand over to his face. Closer. Freezing when the man flinched. His hand pressed against bare skin, clammy and cold palm pressing the man's cheek up for a moment in a forced half-smile. His thumb and forefinger flicked to the man's eyelids and he pulled those wide, though not without some noise on the man's part.

The first leaned his weight on the man's chest, freeing up his other hand in order to shush his quarry. His forefinger was pressed against the mask's lips, now it curled back into his fist, and the masked face peered closely into that opened eye. "Hmph." He removed his hand from the man's face and wiped it off on the side of his hoodie, as if the contact had been offensive somehow.

He began to back off, but the man used his moment of freedom to give the first a shove and, the first already off balance, he actually managed to get leverage this time. A short scuffle, the man leapt off of the bed but was bungled in a tangle of legs, he hit the ground with a grunt of pain and scrabbled forward.

The other backed into the corner of the room, focusing the camcorder on the man while trying to keep the busted door closed.

Meanwhile, the first had taken a minute to shrug off his pack. He pointed to the other, pointed to the man, and returned his attention to the pack's contents.

The other leapt into action without hesitation: he had been carefully watching the man struggle to his feet, using the arm of his computer chair for support. Now he snapped the camcorder screen closed and barreled forward, plowing the man down. He felt extremely lightheaded and only barely noticed when the man's fists connected with his arm and shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the sensation of faintness, he grabbed the man by the fabric of his shirt and manhandled him across the room, awkwardly slamming him against the far wall. Was that the desk light flickering or was it his vision? He shook his head.

Somebody was shoving him aside, and the other briefly flinched, startled. When he realized that it was just the first, he shook himself, backed away, and picked up the camcorder again. The thing seemed undamaged, thankfully. He popped open the view screen again and allowed the lens to focus on the two pressed against the wall, though a visible shaking wobbled the camera rather terribly.

The other blinked rapidly, took a deep breath, held it... the recording steadied. His hands steadied.

"You're _not_ doing this," the man protested, voice quavering and the other zoomed in on the pair's hands. The first had both of the man's wrists crushed between the two of them, and was wrapping black electrical tape over the bared skin of his arms.

The other shook his head again, frowning, though his expression was indiscernible. The man had a way of allowing himself to be led around when he needed to be... this wasn't the way that he'd like things to work...

The first turned for a moment to look at him, and the other immediately dropped his gaze back to the screen. He had seen that look before. Things were not going to go the way that he'd _like_ them to.


	4. Intrusion

When the first began rooting around the room, tearing the place apart, the man had tried to argue with him. He had been keeping an eye on the other, feeling distinctly uneasy (and still smarting from the fall) that he was outnumbered. In the past, everything that had happened... he had felt scared, but he'd been relatively able to keep it together. _He _had thought that the psychotic stalker following him was 'totheark', and had assumed that it was one person (aside from the man in the suit) who was making his life hellish.

Now there were two of them, and he didn't know what to think.

Actually, that was a lie... he hadn't known what to think for months now. This was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

Now he had found his mouth taped shut in addition to this arms, and he was backed into a corner, and he was watching these mask-wearing psycho tear up the last bastion of safety (what a relative word) that he really had. The man closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. He shuddered, a cough struggling for release and finding none. He felt like this couldn't be happening.

The other turned the camcorder from the first towards the man. He tilted his head faintly, watching the man suffering. This was more familiar territory.

Squatting next to the victim, keeping the camcorder fixed on the first, the other waited for their quarry to open his eyes again. The both of them recoiled just a little -- the man on seeing a mask so close to his face, the other on the sudden movement in general.

_"Mmmph,"_ the man pleaded, and the other shook his head shortly and violently. The man shuddered again, obviously in great discomfort.

The other rested the camcorder on his knee and made a hushing noise, staring pointedly at the man. After a few flinching moments -- the first was angry, erratic in whatever he was searching for -- the man nodded. He looked a lot like a kicked puppy by this point.

The other tentatively reached out between them, watching with an almost paranoid sense of intensity for any sudden moves. Or subtle moves, for that matter. His fingers found the edge of one of the pieces of tape on the man's mouth and he tugged on it. _Rrrip._

_"Shit,"_ the man hissed, turning his head and attempting to rub his sore lips on the sleeve of his t-shirt. The other flapped his hand, the tape still stuck to his fingers, and eventually plastered the stubble-laden strip to the wall. He was waiting for the man to make a move, to try to bowl him over, or something. He willed the man to be still... and it seemed that he was.

"Who are you?" the man whispered, eyes going back and forth between the other and the first.

The other shook his head. No, no names.

"Come on," the man pleaded, licking his lips to wet them, and grimacing momentarily over the piece still in place. "Alex?" his brows were drawn together, his expression one of badly scraped together hope. The other remained impassive, simply stared at him. Flicked his attention back to the first, who had slammed shut a drawer and was going through another. Turned back to the man. The tape was still rolling.

"Come on," the man tried again, holding up his taped together arms. The other shook his head faintly. "It's _me,_" he tried, "J--" but was cut off when the first slipped over and grabbed him by the shirt.

"Where are they?!" the first hissed, messily hauling the man up, allowing him to use the wall to make it easier on himself.

"Where's what?" the man asked, looking distraught by the sudden intrusion.

The first gestured to the now upended room. "They're not where you usually keep them!"

The man's eyes widened. _Usually keep what?_ How did this person know where he kept anything, let alone anything specific? "H... Hey!" He tried to pull back as the first began patting him down, but there was nowhere to pull back to. "Hey, cut it out!" He cursed, trying to edge away as the first dug around in his pockets. "Fuck off!"

"Shut up!" the first replied, hand emerging victorious with a key ring. He flicked through those available, found the one he was looking for. Glared at the other, who was still watching, who felt a wave of nausea rise up alongside the faint-headedness. The first made a gesture with his finger over the black lips of his mask and the other recognized it immediately: 'put the tape back on.'

The other nodded and went for the roll, while the first eyed the man, who in turn was frantically searching for options that didn't involve doing what these people said.

It wasn't his vision. The light in the room was flickering. Everything was flickering. The other picked up the pack that the first had dropped, turned back to the first and passed it over even as he brought the roll out. Hurriedly, he ripped a piece of tape off and pressed it against the man's mouth without regard for the way that the man strained away, or the brief shout he gave. "_No!_" became a muffled noise.

The two visibly relaxed, but only for a moment. The light on the nightstand flickered and went out. The other glanced into the viewfinder of the camcorder and shook his head, heart racing. A tear, nothing immediately troublesome to most people.

"We're going," the first assured, and grabbed the man by his bound wrists. "Go!" he barked, dragging their protesting victim along behind him.

The other kept one eye on the viewscreen as they hurried out of the man's room, and out of his house. He kept the other on the two of them as the first pushed the man against the back door of his car and bungled the car key into the driver-side lock.

The screen wavered up for a moment, over the roof of the car as the other helped to stuff the man into the cluttered back seat of the car, and he missed the exceedingly tall, slim shape that was briefly caught on crackling film, that simply stood under the lamp post across the road. When he reached over for the camcorder again, the figure was gone.

"Get in," the first told the other, even as he was slamming the driver-side door closed.

"Where are we going?" the other asked, feeling his heart skip a beat. He hadn't brought his medication with him. He'd thought they'd be back in a couple of hours at the most -- the first did not like leaving the house, after all. But what if they weren't returning?

"Mmmphhm!" the man added, tearing his gaze away from the road to stare at the two masked men hijacking his car.

The first muttered something under his breath that neither of the other two could quite make out. Somehow that didn't make the other feel all that much better.


	5. Unnumbered

The engine was idling when Jay roused awake, though it was the chiming of the door alarm that had dragged him back to consciousness. For a brief window he was simply confused, albeit in pain from a pounding migraine. Then, as he grimaced and tried to push himself up to a seated position, a cold shock of panic jolted him fully awake when he felt his wrists were bound and realized that his mouth was covered.

"Mmph," he cursed, looking around wildly, and then thinking better of it. His head was _swimming_, and throwing it around like that wasn't helping any.

He closed his eyes and tried to take deep, calming breaths, though it was difficult. First things first, where was he, and why was he _taped up_ like this?

He opened his eyes again and gave his surroundings a tentative looking over. He was in the back seat of his car, which was otherwise empty. The cab light was on, and the insistent pinging of the door open alarm created a constant background noise. Both the driver's side front and back door were hanging open... it was night, given he couldn't see much beyond those doors. It was chilly, too -- he was distinctly uncomfortable without more than a t-shirt and sweats for protection.

Memories of how he had gotten here flinched away from conscious examination, but Jay didn't try for long to figure out how he'd gotten here. Beyond the low beam lights he could make out gravel and maybe tree trunks, the latter backlit by the phosphorescent orange glow cast by the town. He might not know where he was, but he definitely knew that he didn't want to be caught out in the woods, in the night, taped up and defenseless. He'd woken up on the roadside enough in the past few months to last him a lifetime!

Uncertain of what might lurk beyond the dubious comfort of the car lights, Jay set out to find a way to get the tape from off his wrists. He didn't exactly know where he was going to go from there, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.


	6. Suggestion

The rustling of the tall grass put the other on edge as he followed the first back to he path that led through the woods. Both trained their flashlights on the ground ahead of them, though occasionally the first would flick the beam up, stopping, scanning the tree line.

The camcorder was running out of tape, but the other was trying to capture as much as he could in sweeping gestures. Just in case.

"What if this doesn't work?" he asked, raising his voice a little over the sound of their tromping. He had pulled his mask up over his head once they'd left the car, finding it easier to breathe this way.

The first stopped again, half-way turned and regarded the other. His flashlight came up, temporarily blinding the other and causing him to throw an arm up to cover his face... though the first didn't say a word. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, face still masked like that, but the other figured it'd be better not to question... if the first didn't want to explain himself, then prodding him for answers was probably just going to make him cranky. The other had learned _that_ much since this had started.

They found the dirt and gravel trail soon afterwards, and began back to the car. The other nearly bounced into the first as the latter stopped short, only a few yards from the head of the parking lot. The other brought the camcorder up and scanned the area, looking for any kind of distortion even as he pulled the mask back into place. Nothing...

The first dug into the gravel and pitched forward, running hard to the car. The other realized what had set him off -- the man was no longer in the back seat, unconscious as they'd left him. He had just finished pulling himself into the front seat, and realized that a masked person was bolting out of the dark of the forest at him.

The man, arms free of binding tape, gawked for half a second before grabbing the car door and slamming it shut. The first slammed against _that,_ dropping his flashlight in his haste to scramble the door open again. Doing his best to faithfully record the incident, the other hurried over to both of them.

Before the man could lock the door, the first pulled it open and grabbed the man by the arm. They struggled there, half in and half out of the car, until the first managed to get some leverage and heaved the both of them out onto the hard-packed gravel of the lot. The man, desperate and finding himself on top for once, found his hand on the flashlight and brought it up to smack the first in the head -- but the other was close enough now. He quickly freed up his hands and grabbed the man's arm as it came down, barely managing to keep the flashlight from making contact with the first's face.

From there it was somewhat easier -- the two of them wrestled the man into submission again... and only after he had gone limp, head smacking the ground as he fell unconscious again, did they ease up.

The other scrambled back to his flashlight and camcorder, scooping them up and catching the briefest glimpse of heavy distortion before the viewfinder settled out again. He was breathing hard, and this time he _did_ give in to the urge to cough. Bent over for a few minutes with his hands on his knees, he felt the world swim in and out of focus as his lungs and throat burned. The pressure of a hand on his back didn't help much, but the other did his best to stop himself. He managed to get the urge under control, for the most part, and turned to look up at the first. "I need your help," the first said, voice flat but somewhat more subdued than usual.

"Can we go back now?" the other rasped. He needed water, if nothing else.

The first inclined his head, not quite nodding, but it was enough to settle any worries the other had for the moment. The thought of returning to the house was a great relief -- which was ironic, after everything that had happened.

Whatever the case, the other got to work, helping the first pile the unconscious man back into the car. Soon they'd be be back. Whether He would be there to greet them or not was the question.


	7. Boundary

He felt better now that they had gotten back to the house. It wasn't that he felt safer, or even like getting some water into him had completely cleared his lungs or head. On the contrary, being inside the house gave him a prickling sensation of terror that left him feeling mentally drained, and left him very aware of his own physical limitations. That didn't stop him from feeling better that things were back to a more familiar routine. He'd simply lived for too long under constant threat of death (or worse... that had never been entirely clear) that deviations from accepted habits left him edgy.

Once the car had ground to a halt across the street, the first had cut the ignition and spent a few seconds staring, eyes huge, mask pushed up back over his head, looking for signs that things weren't right. The other had remained in the back with the man, eyes on the camcorder as the seconds ticked down, doing his best to track any motion or distortion from his seat.

Nothing... nothing so far. Time was running out.

They'd worked quickly, then. Jostling the man out of the back of the car, they'd managed to get him half-walking, supporting him with an arm over either of their shoulders. Across the street, up to the house. Through the door. Nobody saw them; nobody lived around here anymore, anyways.

Up the stairs, nearly to the top, and then they each heard the tiny _snick_ of the tape as it ran to the end of its film. A pause under which both masked men held their breaths and went stock still. The man slumped between them, and they lunged into action again, heaving him the rest of the way up the stairs and dragging him through the door to the first's room, practically tripping over the man's body and the detritus of the first's room in their hurry.

The first dove for his desk, throwing piles of paper and heavier objects out of the way -- he nearly smashed the mangled-looking video camera he was looking for before he fumbled for and managed to save it. The other, feet entangled for a moment over their quarry, tripped and nearly fell. He hit the doorframe and managed to keep himself upright, but wasted no time recovering from the near fall. He frantically searched through more piles of garbage and papers scattered across the floor, found a tape even as he was ejecting the last. Made the switch. The used tape went into the pile of discards as the other let out a held breath. The two of them looked up at one another, recognized each others corresponding relief, and palpably relaxed... for the moment, at least. They finished dragging the man into the room and pushed the door mostly closed.

The first settled his flashlight on a newly cleared patch of table and went to work lighting a fuel-powered lamp, given that the breakers to the house had been flipped and would stay that way if either of them had anything to stay about it.

Satisfied that the man would not slide out of the chair they'd dropped him in, the other slipped out of the room and down the short hall, mincing along carefully as he opened a door, then using his flashlight to examine the room before he entered. He dug up a fresh water bottle, settling the video camcorder on a dresser to watch his back for him. It was frustrating, his hands trembling like they were, to drink, but he managed it. He'd taken the mask off in the process, and was contemplating it now, considering chucking it under the overturned mattress or across the room. He _hated_ the thing, but it had proven all too useful in the past. Its usefulness was likely far from being over. He bent it a little, considered cracking it. Inevitably, though, he laid it carefully on the dresser next to the camcorder, next to his pills. There were a dozen or so sprawled around the case, and the other gave an exasperated huff as he carefully gathered all but two and returned them to their proper place. The first _only_ used the pills for their side effects; they weren't as important to him as they were to the first. He neglected things, but the other didn't have the heart to hide his medication on purpose. The other was not so willfully callous that he'd endanger the first, even if working with him was trying in the best of times.

The other lingered at the dresser, mind drifting in a frayed tangle of thoughts, before decisively sealing the pill cases lid in place. A muffled crack of a noise startled him and he jolted -- if he hadn't finished with that lid, there'd be pills everywhere again.

He snatched up the camcorder and hurried back to the first's room, halting in the doorway and backtracking to grab his mask. He slipped it back over his head -- just in case -- and was off again. The first thing he saw was the silhouette of the first, cast in a dark silhouette against the light of the lamp. His arm was frozen on outward end of a slapping arc, and as the other slipped into the room, he saw that the man was still slumped in the chair despite the attempt to wake him. The first dropped his arm, watching the unconscious man hawkishly for a few moments and ignoring the other completely. It seemed like the man wasn't coming to; the first raised his hand again with only the slightest hesitation. Before he could land a second blow, the man started awake and raised both arms to cover his face. He gave a noise of shock, distress, something dredged up from unrestful unconsciousness. His head snapped around as he looked up at the first, who had dropped his hand, and then around the room. It was obvious that he was trying to get his bearings while at the same time trying to shake himself of lethargy.

The other had turned his flashlight off and set it on the table, but he watched the two's interaction carefully. He didn't know what the first planned, yet, but he didn't want to be caught unawares again. He pushed more piles out of the way on the table and settled the camcorder where it could keep an eye on the room, then checked on the mangled backup in order to look busy. The thing was, he didn't spend a lot of time in this room, not nearly as much as he did downstairs. He and the man were both using this moment to take stock of the first's space.

The room was in complete disarray. The walls were tacked with hastily scrawled notes -- memories, actually -- as well as pages of printed word. String and thumbtacks connected fragments of thought. The floor was mottled with crumpled paper, old clothes, discarded bags and even rinds of food. Aside from the currently dead computer tower and empty space where the man's chair usually sat, the room didn't look entirely habitable. Even the crumpled ball of blankets shoved up against one wall was encroached on by mess. In the light of the lamp, the first was clearly visible -- at least his mask was -- and the man settled his gaze on it as if trying to fix it in his memory. He didn't look happy.

The first inclined his head a little, locking eyes with the man in the chair, and after a moment, the latter dropped his gaze down to his gravel-scuffed hands. He struggled to piece his memories together over the last few minutes (or hours? Had it been hours? It must have been, there was no light seeping in from the sheet tacked up over the window,) and managed to remember being tackled in his own home. Struggling out of tape-bound wrists... in his car? Yes. In the woods. Somewhere vaguely familiar... and now he was here. There were gaps, then. He felt cold, realizing that he couldn't remember what had happened in between those brief windows of clarity. Paralyzed, almost.

He dragged his head back up and forced himself to stare at the mask, forced the panic that was struggling to erupt back down. "What do you _want_?" he finally asked.

The other, leaning lightly against the table's edge, watched the both of them carefully. That question had been important. It wasn't, 'where am I?' or, 'who are you?' That, he thought, was probably a step in the right direction. He knew that the first had been trying hard to cultivate the man... it was gratifying, in a way, to begin to see some awareness taking root.

The first circled the man's chair before coming to a halt in front of his victim again, arms crossed. He was silent again. Watching, probably waiting to see if the man would try to bolt again. He wasn't impressed yet. The man was so stubbornly ignorant, sometimes, that he didn't trust in a faintly clear-cut question to be a sign of enlightenment.

"Why am I here?" the man pressed. He wet his lips nervously, completely unnerved by the silence. Swiveling the chair to regard the first as he began a second circuit, he added, "Listen, I don't _want __in_ on this. I said I was _done_ and I _am_." That door was temptingly close, the way out only a leap and a mad dash away. Then again, two against one weren't great odds, and the fact that he didn't know what in hell was happening made those odds seem far worse.

The first came to a stop again, placing himself between the man and the door. He shook his head slowly, almost theatrically. "You started it." the face he wore remained impassive, though his tone of voice was peevish. "You started it, you're not just going to walk away. It's too much." He brought a hand up, as if to rub his eyes, but let his hand drop again when it came up against the plastic covering his face. "You _refuse_ to understand but you are in it up to _here_ now." His hand chopped to his temple as he spoke in an unintentional salute.

"Then why," the man leaned forward a little, as much to gauge the others' reactions as to emphasize his point, "don't you just _tell_ me." There was a pause that dragged on, and he nudge, "tell me what I need to understand."

The first flung both arms up as he cast an exasperated sigh, unintentionally startling his captive. "No. No, you don't _get_ it. You _won't_ get it." He began pacing again, but stopped after only a couple of steps. Staring not at the man, but at the wall, he had gone stock still, apparently caught in a trance.

"What?" the man asked, lowering his voice despite the frustration he was feeling. He glanced between the two masked figures, noting that both of them looked tense. The first was turning slowly on his heel, the other was frozen, face and camcorder locked on the door. The atmosphere in the room had leaped from vaguely menacing to downright hostile, and as the man turned, he felt that sensation leap another level. A wave of nausea smashed through him as he tried to follow their gazes, and not without undue cause.

The door was open.

The lamp light cast an even, unwavering glow over the figure that lurked just beyond the threshold, body filling the space completely. Pressing himself back in his chair, the man felt himself edge backwards... though as he inched back, the figure ducked, slipping forward with the movement. Careful. Tentative. Utterly freezing.

The other kept the mangled camcorder focused on the suited figure, though he knew it wouldn't hold up to such a close encounter. Something had gone wrong, the first had thought that they would have a few hours!

The mangled camcorder's screen blacked out. Looking down, looking up again, the figure had passed beyond the door frame and filled the inside of the doorway, easily dwarfing all three of them. The other grabbed for the functional camcorder and watched the struggling viewfinder, breath hitching in his throat. His vision swam. Why hadn't he taken that medication as a precaution? There was no way he was going to manage through this one... the first had been too cocky; unless he had a second backup, it was up to the other to keep his eyes peeled, and he could barely see.

A low, deep noise seemed to thrum from somewhere just under the edge of hearing, as furious as a splitting headache. Paralyzing. The other wavered, swooning against the edge of the table. The camcorder slipped momentarily.

The figure loomed over the middle of the room as quick as a blink. The other struggled to focus, but his hands were shaking. The camcorder shook once and only once.


	8. Restoration

Jay rolled to his side, groaning in pain as he curled his knees up to his chest. His palms pressed desperately against his temples, as if by some feat of determination he could keep his head from falling apart. It felt like he'd been turned inside out, run through a juicer, and tossed back together with only the barest attention to detail. He couldn't think, not for some time.

Everything that he'd experienced in the past few months felt like nothing in comparison to the disorientation and pain that he was feeling now. Even the other day's events, the surreal basement, everything that he'd witnessed as if by third party through his tapes was nothing. Even if he could _remember_ all of those previous events... right now he could barely decipher up from down.

Eventually, the pain settled... at least it settled enough to comprehend that he was laying on his side, the world before him divided in two. One half was littered with dry, dead grass stubble, the other consisted of horizontal bars. No, trees. Sideways trees.

He pushed himself upright, moving quickly at first. Slower immediately after he realized that his head was swimming with vertigo. Seated upright, he turned to the light, lips parting slightly as the space before him registered. He knew this place... somehow.

A bonfire was burning low, casting low, red light and heat even from this distance a dozen or so feet away. Stumps circled the stones that contained the fire... but nobody sat there. He looked around the immediate circle of the fire and beyond, but he couldn't see a thing. He was alone, as far as he could tell.

Jay stumbled upright, staggering as he nearly lost balance. Somehow, he felt as though a misstep was more dire now than simply losing his footing. He walked slowly, carefully, and eventually settled himself gingerly on one of the logs facing the fire. A long, soot-charred branch rested nearby. Jay picked it up and prodded at the fire, sending a spume of cinders and ash floating upwards, buoyed up into darkness....

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The lamp guttered audibly and died as the first rays of morning crept in around the edges of the sheet, dimly illuminating the first's sty. Two figures were sprawled unconscious on the floor. One, the other, was curled in a fetal position under the table. He woke with a start, wondering how he'd gotten there, then had another shock as dream-like fragments of the night before flickered into memory. He peered out from under the desk and spotted the uncomfortably slouched figure of the man, collapsed half off of his chair.

"Oh..." The other murmured, dread welling up as he realized that the first was not present. "Oh, shit."

He pulled himself out from under the table and moved on hands and knees over to the man. His fingers found the man's carotid artery... there was a pulse there. Faint, but it was there. The other was more concerned when he noticed dried blood caked inside the man's earlobe. "Oh... oh no." He grabbed the man's shoulder and gently rolled him onto his back. Caked red trails marked the man's forehead, cheeks and nose. An unhealthy looking puddle of the stuff had crusted to the carpet below.

"This, this isn't good." The other kneeled back, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair. A thought struck him, and he looked around the room. The video camera was missing... the good one was missing. Had he dropped it?

No, it was missing. Definitely missing.

He used the chair to drag himself to his feet, light-headed and groggy as he was. He found and fussed with the mangled backup camcorder, but the thing was toast. He tried to pry it open, but it seemed so badly damaged, things must have been fused together. The other set the camcorder down on the table and wandered out of the first's room, a little shell shocked. Only when he'd found his half-empty water bottle and had taken his pill did he seem to come to awareness again.

The first was gone. The man was still here. The man was suffering a head injury... so... the man was gone. It made sense to him.

He nodded to himself and wandered into the bathroom. Took the mask off, settled it on the counter. Ran some water and splashed it across his face.

Coloured droplets? He looked up at his dim reflection and frowned. A nosebleed, dried now. He scrubbed his face clean, scrubbed the mask clean, returned to the first's room with a wet cloth and did his best to scrub the man's face clean. The stain on the carpet he couldn't do anything about... but that wasn't a concern right now.

At this point, the other needed to get a second pair of eyes... and the only place that he could think of that still had those was the man's house. Get the man cleaned up, then, get them both back to his house. The first was gone.

The other had no idea what this meant... but he couldn't allow himself to panic.

He set about moving the both of them. This time he'd make _sure_ that there were precautions in place. This was not going to end the same way that it had last night.

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The fire was nearly out. Jay prodded at the somber red coals in the pit, trying to pry badly charred chunks of wood to the air, to bring back the light. He felt a deep chill that wasn't being dispelled by his proximity to the fire. It was partially the complete isolation that left him cold, partially that his thoughts kept slipping away. It was a struggle just to focus on what had happened over the last few minutes, and Jay was feeling like he had been here for hours. Days, maybe. Did night last this long?

He heard something snap outside the perimeter of the known and he froze, eying the darkness beyond his tiny bubble of safety with owlish intensity. What was that?

"...Jay?" a voice called, tentative. He stood, wavering on his feet for a few seconds while he fought to keep balance, but nobody came into the light.

Raising his brand with its still-glowing edge to the darkness, he cast his voice out. "Hello?" The greeting was quieter than he had expected. More wavering than he would have liked. He tried again, "I can't see... where are you?"

He watched a figure move hesitantly out of the darkness, towards the light. Towards him. "Alex?" He didn't risk rubbing his eyes, even if they felt like they were blurring things in and out of focus. The man who slunk into the circle of tree stumps looked... damaged, somehow. He was wearing a heavy jacket and he _still_ looked as cold as Jay felt in his t-shirt. "What... what are you doing here?" Jay asked, surprised enough to gape. "Where are we? How'd we get here?"

The other man collapsed onto the tree stump nearest him, reeling dangerously. He looked drunk, though that wasn't quite right, either. Jay dropped his branch and leaned to support his friend, though Alex raised both hands before Jay could touch him. "It's alright," he stated simply, though even he didn't sound like he believed himself.

The two regarded one another, Jay looking concerned, Alex looking all too wary. "You're a mess," Alex stated after some silence.

"You too." Jay bent to pick up his brand, righting himself and digging the charred point into the hard-packed earth, then leaning on it as if it was a walking stick. "You have to tell me what's going on," he pressed, facing the other man again. "Ever since last summer..."

"_'Last'_ summer?" Alex mumbled. He'd pressed his knuckles under his glasses, was rubbing his eyes as if he was exhausted. Maybe that was it: Alex looked like he hadn't slept in days.

Jay, frowning at Alex's question, explained, "ever since I dug those tapes of yours out of my closet last June..." he trailed off. Jay didn't like the way that Alex had gone stock still. The way that his eyes had snapped into sharp focus unnerved him... that was definitely an accusing glare, and it made Jay extremely uncomfortable. He averted his gaze, shifting slightly as he looked into the fire pit.

The silence seemed to drag on, and Jay shifted again to better support his weight on the branch he was holding. Catching a slight movement from the corner of his eye, he glanced back in Alex's direction, then gave an incoherent cry as he recognized a face with huge, black eyes resolving from the darkness.

There was no time to react: Jay moved forward at what felt like a crawl, but the masked figure was already bringing his arms down, and in his hands Jay saw a heavy piece of firewood. Alex crumpled from his perch as Jay tried to intercept, too late.

Jay tried to stop his forward momentum as the masked man turned his attention from Alex's prone body to him, but he was much too slow. He heard the piece of firewood thump hollowly on the ground, dropped by the masked man, saw him lunging forward. Raising his arms to fend the attacker off, Jay felt himself pushed backward, towards the fire pit...

...A moment later, his back slammed against something hard, flat. Everything was pitch black. A heavy weight thumped against him and knocked the air from his chest, and a sweaty hand that smelled of pine sap smothered his mouth and nose. Jay gave a muffled cry, but the hand only pressed harder. He tried to get his footing under him, but it was soft, sinking. Shapeless. Where was he now?!

He heard a loud _crack,_ felt a shift, and suddenly light flooded the tight space around the two of them. He glared at the silhouette of the masked man who was pressing him to the back of the closet, but it was impossible to tell what the man was thinking; he couldn't even see the eyes behind the damned mask!

Jay caught a glimpse of the wall just beyond the closet, and realized that they were in the abandoned house. The brief surge of adrenaline he'd felt a moment ago was doused by a shock of fear -- weren't they outside a moment ago? He went quite still, and felt the hand move away from his mouth. Felt the masked man back off. Taking a deep breath, he counted to ten... or he would have, if the man hadn't grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out into the hallway.

A light flickered almost beyond Jay's perception, and now he _did_ scrub at his eyes with his free hand. Nausea and disorientation flooded him, left him feeling tight-chested. He was hyperventilating, and he resisted the tugging at his arm that he felt only peripherally.

Maybe it wasn't that the light was flickering, so much as that his vision was snapping too bright, too dark. He couldn't tell anymore. He realized, vaguely, that the masked man was half-guiding, half-dragging him towards the blinds at the back of the house... back outside? Jay turned his head and looked into the wreckage of the living room as they passed it.

A dark shape -- a person -- stood behind an overturned sofa and watched them. Jay, frowning and squinting, wondered if he'd seen the person somewhere before...

A harsh tug jolted him out of his reverie, and Jay sluggishly turned his attention back to the masked man. They were slipping out past the glass door, into a brightness so shrill that it blinded him completely.

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The other was beginning to feel as though dragging prone bodies to and from houses was all that he had to look forward to from life. He was only thankful that they'd left the man's house unlocked, or he'd have had to resort to other methods to get in. His hands had been shaking the entire time that he'd been driving, and he'd worried that someone would spot him on the highway, see through him because he wasn't wearing his mask. He worried that they would spot the unconscious body of the man resting crookedly on the back seat, guess at what was happening. Worse, he worried that, across the median, standing amongst the trunks of the trees that abutted the highway, the suited figure that he dreaded was watching. Without proper eyes to capture him, it was more than likely that he _was_ watching, only the other would never be able to properly spot him.

Despite his well founded fears, the highway had been all but empty, and the short walk to the man's house had been uneventful. The other, feeling all but naked without a video camera _or_ his mask in place, trundled the man into his house, through the door. He nearly stumbled and fell over the unsorted pile of shoes on the other side of the threshold, nearly slammed the man's head into the wall as he tried to recover. Cursing under his breath, the other managed to avoid _both_ with the kind of adroitness awarded only to those who have no one to acknowledge them, and he continued on into the house.

He glanced around the living room, feeling strangely more at ease now that he was inside the messy place, and hefted the weight of the body carried perilously over his shoulder. The couch was piled with detritus and the floor was barely clear enough to cross without breaking _something._ The other, seeing no place to dump the unconscious man, decided to move onward.

Padding along in the comfort of silence, the other pushed the man's bedroom door open and moved inside... and nearly dropped his burden as the man's body spasmed. Turning the near drop into a controlled release, the other settled the man's body on the floor and watched him spasm again. So taken with ensuring that the man didn't keel over or hurt himself, the other jolted in surprise as the first stole through the door without a sound.

"Where did _you_ come from?!" the other asked, pressing a hand to the man's shoulder as he felt a third tremor strike him.

The first lifted his mask up over his face, throwing it forcefully to the floor. It didn't do much; the mask was light and the carpet absorbed its impact, robbing the first of any satisfaction from the action. "He _knew_!" he spat, grabbing at the hair above his temples and raking his scalp with rigid fingers. "All this time, laying a trap! He _knew!_"

"Who knew? What trap? Last night?!" The other nervously cleared his throat, eying the discarded mask warily. His own was dangling off of a belt loop... he fingered the plastic of it after a moment, given that the man had slumped into a less tortured pose and didn't seem to be about to tremor again. The other didn't like being in the man's room without wearing the mask, but he hadn't had time to put it back on.

The first slammed the door shut, turning away from the other as he tried to compose his thoughts. "Last night... what time is it?"

The other shrugged, looked around the man's room for some indication. "I don't know, morning, sometime early?" He heard a thin, exasperated whistle. "What happened?"

"The less _you_ know," the first seemed to patronize, "the better."

"I thought we were in this together," the other scowled. He didn't _like_ working with the first, but they'd come to an agreement some time ago. Even if the first was extremely difficult to work with, at least they could rely on one another, couldn't they?

The first leaned over and picked his mask up, not deeming to look at the other. When the other opened his mouth to speak again, he found his arms filled with the backpack that the first was shoving over. "We need more tapes."

"He's not doing well," the other nodded to the man's still unconscious body.

The first tilted his head down, just enough to cast a disapproving glare. "I know. We need more tapes."

"It's not a good idea to leave him like this."

"I'll _be_ here. Besides, we need more camcorders." The first slipped the mask back into place, "I'll look around here. Everything should still be in the backpack."

The other rose to his feet, shouldering the pack and glancing down at the man, who was still propped up against the wall. The truth was, he wasn't sure that leaving the first with him was a great idea... he'd hardly left his own room for the past _three years_, and he was irritable and sardonic when push came to shove. There was still the mystery of where the first had come from just now, and how he'd gotten here so quickly. Had he been lying in wait all along? The other shook his head, cast the both of them one last look, and slunk out of the room without another word.

There was too much that he didn't understand... and he was only really beginning to realize that. "Tapes," he muttered, walking through the open front door and out into the world. "Too many tapes."


End file.
